


Pretty when you cry

by blackmoonalcolyte (jomipay)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: CNC, Consensual Non-Consent, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Kink Negotiation, M/M, Make Up, Porn With Plot, Smut, mascara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jomipay/pseuds/blackmoonalcolyte
Summary: There is something Oscar has never tried. Zolf teases him about it, because what could there possibly be involving physical pleasure that his lover hasn’t tried? Oscar tries to smirk and throw snark back at him but he blushes, ever so faintly darts his eyes away. He’s...embarrassed. Zolf’s curiosity is irrevocably peaked. He shuts up, stops his teasing.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Pretty when you cry

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to read the tags, this is a negotiated consensual non-consent scene, make sure you're okay with that before reading!

There is something Oscar has never tried. Zolf teases him about it, because what could there possibly be involving physical pleasure that his lover hasn’t tried? Oscar tries to smirk and throw snark back at him but he blushes, ever so faintly darts his eyes away. He’s...embarrassed. Zolf’s curiosity is irrevocably peaked. He shuts up, stops his teasing. 

“It’s--” Oscar fidgets, tucks a stray curl behind an ear, “It’s just a lot.” 

Zolf nods in encouragement, all ears and willing to give Oscar anything he can, anything within reason (and some things slightly out of reason, too). Oscar tells him a fantasy. Paints him a vivid image of Zolf holding him down, using his strength, making him do whatever Zolf wants. 

“I would pretend not to want it.” Oscar says, not quite managing to hide his blush by fiddling with his hair.

“Like acting.” 

“Yes, like performing.” Oscar smiles, seemingly pleased that Zolf hasn’t shot down the idea yet.

“Don’t know if I’d be any good at that. But I’d be willing to give it a go.”

Oscar smiles widely. “I think you might surprise yourself.”

Zolf draws him into an embrace, holds him close while they talk about it more, go over boundaries, specifics, safe words.

“You’ve really never done this before?” 

Oscar hums. “Always wanted to, but no.”

It’s about the trust, Oscar tells him, and Oscar’s never trusted anyone else enough. 

***

Zolf waits in a dark corner of Oscar’s bedroom. He hears the front door creak open followed by a set of nice dress shoes clacking across the hardwood floors towards the bedroom. He doesn’t move when Oscar walks in. He’s dressed well, a nice dark blue shirt and silver waistcoat, both of which are well fitted to his form. The fabric of his trousers look soft, luxurious, and they hug the long, lithe lines of his legs. Oscar pauses as he toes his shoes off, peering into the darkness where Zolf is concealed before deciding there’s nothing there afterall, and walking to his dresser to remove his cufflinks. Zolf follows after him, emerging from the shadows as stealthily as he can, which is not actually very stealthy at all. He knows Oscar can hear him, but he also knows he will pretend not to. 

Zolf takes the knife out of his pocket, thumbs over the blade, making completely sure for himself one more time that it’s just as dull as he remembers. His hands are shaking. He’s not totally sure what the source of his nerves is. It might be the pressure of performing, of playing a role that doesn’t feel natural. It might be that he’s afraid of disappointing Oscar, or perhaps he’s afraid he’ll go too far and hurt him. Or maybe he’s afraid that he’ll like it more than he should. Zolf takes a deep breath, as quietly as he can. Oscar had said they could stop at any time, if either of them was uncomfortable, all they had to do was say the word and it would be over. This calms his nerves.

Zolf waits until he’s right behind Oscar and then fists a hand in his hair and forces him down until his face is shoved into the hardwood top of his dresser. Oscar lets out a surprised gasp and tries to fight against the grip Zolf has on him. It’s useless. Zolf is so much stronger than him.

“No fancy tricks. I’ll cut you open faster than you can cast.” Zolf presses the blade of the knife firmly against the delicate skin of his throat. He feels the slight shift of the knife as Oscar swallows thickly against it. 

Oscar holds his hands out to either side in a placating gesture. Zolf removes the blade from his throat to seize both hands and tie them roughly behind his back. 

“Whatever you want, I’m sure we could strike some kind of mutually beneficial deal.”

Zolf tangles a hand in his hair again, using it to pull Wilde up before shoving him face first into the nearest wall and patting him down.

“There’s only one thing I want, and I don’t think you’re in a position to be making any deals.” Zolf gropes at his arse to emphasize his point. 

Oscar turns his head, as much as he is able to, pinned as he is currently. “Oh, if that’s what you were after, you could have tried asking nicely, or offering me a drink first.”

Zolf presses the knife into his throat again and releases his grip on Oscar’s hair to shove three fingers past his lips, deep enough that Oscar’s throat spasms briefly. 

“Does it seem like I’m asking?”

Zolf is about to lean up, whisper to Oscar to make sure that was okay, but Oscar quickly chokes off a needy moan, turning it into a whimper around Zolf’s fingers instead. Zolf removes his fingers and replaces them with a cloth he pulls from his pocket, gagging him. Zolf yanks him away from the wall by the hair and onto his knees before tossing him to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Oscar yelps, the sound muffled by the cloth in his mouth, and adrenaline surges through Zolf. There is a brief moment when Oscar fails to hide his manic smile, but Zolf is glad to see it, because in the next instant he is screwing his expression up into one of panic, wide eyed as he tries to scrabble away from Zolf, kicking ineffectually with his stockinged feet. Oscar’s always been a good performer, Zolf would believe him if he didn’t know how badly he wanted this, if they hadn’t spent hours talking about the specifics of this exact situation. Oscar makes slow progress, struggling to find purchase on the slick wooden floor with his hands bound behind his back.

Zolf looms over him and begins to work on the fastening of his trousers. Oscar writhes and whines, but cannot find enough purchase or strength to escape him, and panic overtakes his features. Zolf gets the fastenings undone and begins to pull them and his pants down as Oscar kicks. Zolf huffs in frustration, the way one might huff at a difficult child. 

“There’s nothing you can do to stop this from happening. You’re just going to hurt yourself with all of your struggling.”

Zolf eventually manages to get the trousers and pants off, leaving Oscar’s bottom half completely naked and exposed. Zolf makes a show of roving his eyes over the exposed skin. 

“Pretty.” Zolf brandishes the knife again as he straddles him where he’s sprawled and wriggling on the floor. 

He settles his weight firmly over Oscar’s lap, effectively keeping him in place as he slowly undoes the buttons of his waist coat and shirt, one at a time. He smooths his hand over Oscar’s bare chest when he’s finished his task, watching as his touch leaves a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. He’s hard, more aroused by this than he thought he would be and he rolls his hips against Oscar’s so he can feel. 

Zolf pulls Oscar up to his knees and undoes the fastening of his own trousers, pulling his cock out. Oscar’s eyes widen and he shakes his head and whimpers. Zolf pulls the gag out and Oscar clamps his mouth shut as Zolf presses his hard length against his lips. Oscar looks up at him pleadingly, eyes begging, and Zolf realizes he’s wearing mascara. 

Zolf presses the knife to Oscar’s throat again. “Open. ‘S not a request, you don’t do it, I cut you. I feel any teeth, I cut you. You’ve got such a pretty voice, ‘d be a shame if you couldn’t use it again.”

Oscar has venom in his watering eyes but he obeys, opening his mouth enough for Zolf to force himself in. Zolf doesn’t give him time to adjust before he thrusts his hips forward, feeling the tightness as he hits the back of Oscar’s throat and moaning as he gags around him. Zolf keeps the knife pressed to his throat with one hand and takes a handful of Oscar’s hair in the other, using it to pull his head forward to meet each thrust of his hips. Oscar makes tiny, gurgling noises in his throat and his eyes water, making his mascara run down his cheeks in black streaks. Zolf shouldn’t find that so attractive but gods is it doing something for him.  
Zolf leans down for a moment, presses a quick kiss to his forehead and whispers in his ear. “Doing okay?”

Oscar sucks in a breath and smiles through the black tinted tears on his cheeks. “Fabulous.”

Zolf caresses a cheek, smearing some of the mascara around before plunging back into his mouth, making Oscar’s eyes well up and spill over with yet more tears. Gods is he pretty when he cries. 

He knows its breaking character, but Zolf just has to tell him. “Gods look at you. Beautiful.”

Zolf eventually pulls him off and presses him to the floor. He has a bottle of lube in his pocket that he uncorks and spreads on his fingers, bringing one to Oscar’s entrance and pressing it in as Oscar cries, trying to pass his moan off as a sob. 

“No, please.” Oscar sobs, really laying it on thick now. “Please stop. I’ll give you anything else you want. I’ll finish you with my mouth, please. You can come down my throat, please. You’re hurting me.”

Zolf presses another finger into him. He’s being rougher than he usually is, but it’s part of what they talked about, Oscar had wanted the sting, wanted it to hurt. Zolf removes his fingers and lines himself up, slicking himself up minimally before pressing brutally forward, keeping Oscar pinned beneath him with his greater strength. Oscar cries out as Zolf enters him, shutting his eyes sobbing into the dark room. 

“Please, it hurts.” Oscar cries.

“Good.” Zolf grunts, snapping his hips forward, trying to adjust to the tight heat encompassing him. He fucks into him lazily for a while before setting a punishing pace as Oscar wails and tears run through his ruined mascara and down his face. 

Zolf sinks a hand into his hair, fucks him harder, tells him, “Keep crying. I like it when you cry.” It’s surprisingly easy for him to say, because it’s not even a lie.

Oscar lets out an unmistakable moan at that and lifts his hips greedily to match the movements of Zolf’s. Oscar looks thoroughly ruined. His skin is slick with sweat and he is flushed all over. His mouth hangs open around the whimpers and cries spilling from it and his eyes are hazy and lust filled. His cock is flushed a bright red and leaking precome all over both of their stomachs. Zolf didn’t think he’d like this, but he does, he likes the power, likes being in control, likes watching Oscar perform under him, trying to hide precisely how desperately he’s enjoying it.

It’s all about making Oscar feel good now. Zolf knows precisely what he likes, and he’s feeling especially indulgent right now. Zolf slows his pace to fuck into him harder, deeper. He tosses the dull knife aside in favor of sticking three of his fingers into Oscar’s mouth, which he wastes no time in tonguing over and sucking on as he moves his hips in desperate little circles under Zolf. 

“You look so good like this, crying and desperate, pretty makeup ruined, taking my cock like you were made for it.” Oscar whimpers and sucks desperately at the fingers in his mouth. Zolf strokes him off with his free hand and it doesn’t take long for Oscar to groan around Zolf’s fingers in his mouth as he spurts come between them, shuddering with the force of his release. Zolf follows him, pleasure that has been coiling in his gut for a while now finally being released. 

They lay still for a moment, panting and sweaty against each other, trying to catch their breath. Zolf gets up, gets a rag to clean them both up. He helps Oscar up and cuts his bindings free. He takes a rag with warm and soapy water and uses it to clean the mascara off Oscar’s face as he holds him in place with a hand on his chin. He offers to heal the red marks the rough rope has left behind, but Oscar wants to keep his mementos, and Zolf is loath to take them from him. Oscar gives him a blissful smile. His body is relaxed, sated. They crawl into bed and Oscar nuzzles into his side. 

“Was that what you wanted?” Zolf asks, pushing sweat damp hair away from Oscar’s face, and swiping away a spot of mascara he’d missed in his cleaning with the pad of his thumb.

“Mmm, you were marvelous.”

Zolf chuckles to himself as Oscar stretches his long limbs. 

Zolf runs a finger over his plush bottom lip. “You’re pretty when you cry.”

Oscar moans and sucks the thumb into his mouth. “Be careful, or we’ll have to go again.”

Zolf rolls on top of him and kisses him firmly. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Oscar cackles and wraps his legs around Zolf’s waist, pulling him in as close as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my lovelies! Thanks WIR for the constant inspiration, love y'all.


End file.
